


Clearing His Name

by ishouldntbeallowedoutinpublic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishouldntbeallowedoutinpublic/pseuds/ishouldntbeallowedoutinpublic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Sherlock home and safe from hunting Moriarty's web he soon finds the new task of clearing his name.</p><p>Beta'd by Kiliphilia on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Buying Milk

“Sherlock Holmes was a fraud.”  
  
John heard the words whispered behind him in an empty corner shop.  It had been a while since someone had been so bold. Three years down the line and people still hadn’t forgotten. He took a deep breath and continued looking at sell by dates on milk.  
  
“Moriarty was an actor.”  
  
John nearly dropped the carton of milk. He took another deep breath and tried to ignore the person behind him.  
  
“Sherlock Holmes was a liar.”  
  
This time John did drop the carton of milk, spinning round to correct the voice behind him.  A voice that should not have belonged to the body it did.  As the mouth opened to speak again, John’s ears filled with the rush of rage and he could hear the word spewing from the person now in front of him.   
  
He punched once,  clipping the jaw with his knuckles.  
  
“I understand that I deserve that John, but I-“  
  
John cut him off and continued to punch. The body staggered back and hit the floor with a thud. John found himself on top of him, still hitting, his punches becoming weaker as he deteriorated into sobs.  
  
And then the body simply pulled him into a hug and forgave him.  
  
“I’m sorry John.” 


	2. Chapter 2

John had to steady himself against the kitchen table. Sherlock had followed him home. More to the point, Sherlock was alive. And now he was sat in his (or should that be their?) living room. John was making tea. Tea fixed everything.  Tea probably wouldn’t fix this. He was overthinking. His mind was spinning. In a minute he’d probably have an aneurysm. Good. That would solve everything. And kill him. Less good. Christ, was this how Sherlock thought? He was going to need a lie down.

“John, tea!”

Oh good, his highness had stopped being nice. What now? Did he just go in there and act like Sherlock hadn’t been away? While the army had prepared him for many things, it appeared the army had not prepared him in any way, shape or form for the return of a dead best friend. What exactly was the protocol for things like this? John was still angry. Not angry enough to give Sherlock another walloping, but angry none the less.

He pushed the spinning thoughts from his mind, deciding that if Sherlock wanted to talk, Sherlock could initiate and keep conversation going, and strode into the lounge.

“Tea.” He said, holding the cup under Sherlock’s nose. Sherlock took the mug from him and watched as he crossed the room to his chair.

‘ _He’s deducing me.’_ The thought irritated John more than it should’ve done.  He clenched his jaw and ignored it. He sat silently sipping tea, looking anywhere but at Sherlock.

“John, look at me.”

John’s eyes flicked to Sherlock for less than a second before moving back to glaring at the window.

“John, I want you to listen.”

“John, I understand this is hard for you to comprehend.”

“I need your help. Please.”

John sighed and looked at Sherlock, inviting him to talk.

“I need someone to help me clear my name. Or at least help me regain trust from the press and the yard. Clearing my name within the laws of this country is easy. Mycroft can do that. But I have to clear my name with the public, or I’ll never work again, I’ll never be able to go anywhere without being followed by irrational members of the public, there’ll be angry mobs everywhere. I want my life back. I just need one person to believe me.”

“And you expect me to do that?”

“Yes- _No._ No. I am _asking_ you to do that. I need you to do that but- but you’re not going to.” Sherlock trailed off.

“I’ll do it.” John put the mug to one side, rose from his chair and headed upstairs, leaving Sherlock alone in the living room.

John had said three important words. But he’d been cold. Not even angry. Just… cold. Sherlock pulled his knees up and rested his fingertips under his chin. Thinking. The flat hadn’t changed, it was cleaner, but there was nothing hugely different. No wife or girlfriend, as Sherlock had initially thought there would be.  Odd. There was something different too, but Sherlock couldn’t put his finger on it. Something to do with time. John was in the corner shop later than he should’ve been. But why? If John didn’t have some sort of romantic attachment then why was he home later? Not visiting Sherlock’s grave. He went on Sundays. It was a Tuesday.

He clenched his jaw in frustration and gave up. He’d ask in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock was woken up by John pottering around in the kitchen.  He’d fallen asleep on the couch once he’d finally managed to get his brain to shut up. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and blinked in confusion. It was too early for John to be up. He normally liked to lie in bed for at least half an hour after waking up.

“You’re awake early.” Sherlock commented, rolling over on the couch.

“Work needs me.” John replied, his back still turned to Sherlock.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, “The surgery doesn’t open ‘til eight and it’s six. You always lie in bed for at least half an hour after your alarm goes off so you’re never awake this early.”

“I’m not at the surgery anymore.”

Sherlock didn’t press the subject further; it was obvious John wasn’t going to tell him more. “Can I have tea?”

“You know where the mugs are.”

He stood and made his way into the kitchen. He didn’t like this version of John. This cold and frosty John.  He wanted his warm John back. The John who would roll his eyes and bring him tea and tell him he was a lazy git.

“Pass the milk?”

 John slid the bottle towards him.

“Anything that needs doing today? I can’t really leave the house.”

“Nothing really. Your room hasn’t been touched. You should probably sort out the dust in there though. Do you want me to bring home a case?”

“Greg will let you do that?”

“He will if I tell him I haven’t finished my work at the lab.”

“ _What_?”

“Greg gave me a job. I couldn’t keep working at the surgery; my life was empty, so I’m on forensics now.”

Sherlock beamed. “That’s great! Really great, please tell me you’re Anderson’s boss.”

John laughed, “Not quite, but I am better than him. Greg likes me more.”

Sherlock’s smile grew. John had laughed. Warm John was back.


End file.
